


The Girl In The Moon

by Skullsonanimals



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, OFC - Freeform, Original Character(s), Season/Series 04, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 02:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16338518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullsonanimals/pseuds/Skullsonanimals
Summary: I suck at summaries, so i'm not even go to try.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I have two fics I'm already working on, but like I needed to write this one.  
> Please don't judge to harshly for punctuation mistakes.  
> constructive criticism is welcome.

It was a generally uncomfortable day. It was about 3 weeks before the start of school one week since we moved out here to Beacon Hills, and in those 7 days since we exited the car I have seen my mom a total of 10 times. which I don’t exactly mind, my mom doesn’t really pay attention to me, so there really is no loss. Anyway, it’s an uncomfortable day because it’s still warm, and it’s humid, and my scars are acting up and the gloves I usually hide them with are leather and sticking to the scars, so I’m not exactly in the best of moods.  
I’m also regretting my decision on going for a walk, I mean generally I wouldn’t, I don’t like being in public, but today I was like. “I should check out the town I’m stuck in.” so that leads us to now.  
Sitting on a park bench regretting everything, but too stubborn to return to the house just yet.  
Just BTW the gloves i’m wearing are black and reach up to my elbow because that’s where the scars end. If you’re wondering about where the scars came from I can only tell you what my mom told me. When I was 8 the house had caught fire, and stupidly I ran back in to save my stuffed animal which I was unsuccessful in, and it left me with burn scars up my hands to my elbow. I don’t remember that, I don’t remember anything from before the fire. Mom before she grew neglectful helped fill in the blanks, and the Doctors all said that this amnesia was a response to the trauma and that with time I would get my memories back, has yet to happen though and it’s been 9 years I only get a strange sense of Deja vu from time to time.  
I got up from the bench adjusting my DIY shorts, (all I had was long jeans so I cut one into shorts) while it wasn’t exactly hot, it was warm enough for to be in need of shorts but hey don’t blame me I’m still getting used to the weather I used to live in Colorado.  
I started walking again, heading towards a fast food joint, I was in some need for food.  
I walked into the thankfully air conditioned building, sighing I stepped into the short line, looking up at the menu I pulled my wallet out of my pockets with some difficulty.  
The person in front of me moved off to the side after ordering and I stepped up with a fake smile in place.  
“Hi!” I said the cashier looked bored.  
“Hi” he said blandly a beat of a second and then. “What can I get you?” he asked  
“Um Large curly fries and a large Iced coffee.” I said the man nodded typing it in  
“That’ll be 3.45” he said I handed him a 5 dollar bill and he handed me back the change with a receipt I walked off to the side finding a table as I waited for my number to be called.  
“Dude slow down or you’ll choke.” chided a voice. I looked over to see a tanned boy with a crooked jaw staring at his friend with disapproval, his friend who was pale and covered in moles was stuffing his face with curly fries.  
The boy glared and stuffed more into his mouth, his cheeks were puffing out with how much he was eating, he took a big gulp of his soda and swallowed.  
“I’m eating as much curly fries as I can before we leave, this could be the last time I eat curly fries, I could die, I could be imprisoned, don’t judge a man for enjoying his curly fries.” said the boy pointing at his friend with a curly fry for emphasis. The tan boy laughed shaking his head and the pale boy just shoved more curly fries into his mouth with a glare, his eyes flitted towards mine, noticing I was watching him I blushed and looked away.  
“Order 24!?!” called out a voice I got up dutifully and went to pick up my order, I hurriedly stuck a straw into my coffee and rolling up the brown baggie which held my fries I hurried out taking a sip of my coffee, avoiding the boy who was still watching my with a scrutinizing eye.


	2. Chapter 2

The house, is boring. Its not large and its not small, there are two floors, the first floor the bottom floor has a living room adjacent to the dining room the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, the kitchen is small with a spectacularly boring set up, the living room has nothing but a single small TV and a couch and the dining room a long table way to large for just two people. A vase of wilting flowers the center piece of the table, and right next to the front door is a small cupboard for coats and stuff. The second floor held the bathroom that me, my mom and any visitors would have to use, the only bathroom in the house. In the bathroom is a tub that also works as a shower right next to the tub uncomfortably close is a toilet and right next to the toilet the sink which has a mirror over it which doubles as a cabinet, and the doors right next to the sink, there is a mirror which you can see if you turn to the side, which allows you a full view to watch yourself shit or take a shower, The bathroom is small and uncomfortable.  
On the second floor there is also my room, my moms room, the linen closet, which has a small trap door for the attic which you can’t actually get in to, which is good because the attic has no flooring. And a closet with the washing machine and the dryer.   
I have not seen my moms room only the outside of it, it has a pretty standard door and a large window. Now my room is my favorite room in the house, all though it is pretty basic, a small twin sized bed barely big enough for me, a dresser, another full length mirror, and one dim overhead light, but it also has a large window right next to the bed, the window opens, it has no screen and I can climb onto the roof, so yes I love my room, even with the lack of curtains.  
My mom is not home, I am not exactly sure where she is, because she isn’t at work, but I guess I also don’t really know what she does for work, I used to, she used to work at a law firm, but she quit, or she was fired. That’s why we moved, she said she got a new job in Beacon Hills but she never told me what as and I don’t see her often enough to ask.

 

The curly fries are good, the coffee is good, I like this fast food place whatever it was called, I don’t really remember, though I remember where it was.  
But I can see why the boy was stuffing his face with them, if I thought I was going to die I would want these to be my last meal.   
I am sitting on my bed crossed legged, once getting home I had immediately run upstairs changed into something more comfortable aka, a tank top, no bra on and a pair of boxers which I use as pajamas. I stripped off my gloves turning them inside out I laid them out to dry on my dresser. My discarded clothes laying on the ground I proceeded to pull out my laptop and go to town on my fries which were a bit soggy and cold and the rest of my slightly melted iced coffee.  
Now my fingers are covered in grease, and there are little drips of condensation on my bed. I burped wiping my fingers off on a napkin which was also greasy from being in the bag I balled it up threw it back into the bag with my empty fry container. I took a long gulp of my coffee, finishing it off I sighed and stood cracking out my spine, smacking my lips together, I walked to the bathroom leaving my bedroom door open. I stepped in front of the sink and washed my hands avoiding looking at my face until last minute.   
I wouldn’t say I dislike my face, or anything about my face really, its just when I look at my eyes I feel weird, and I can’t help but notice that my eyes are blue and my mom and dads eye’s are brown. When I’m not looking at my eyes I seem to forget what color they are, its always a shock when I look in the mirror. Sure there are things about my face that make other people taunt me or comment about it, like my nose, a common topic for bullies. On the bridge of my nose I have a big reddish birthmark, people call me Rudolph, its very unoriginal.  
A thing my grandma likes to comment on, is my dark circles. My dark circles bring a whole new meaning to dark circles, but that's what happens when you don’t sleep much because of pain.  
Because my scars tend to hurt, a lot.   
I don’t like my grandma, she’s a very fake woman, fake smiles, fake laughs, fake concern even fake pain.  
Another thing that bullies back during middle school used to tease me about a lot was my short hair, I’ve always had short hair ever since I could remember. I don’t like the idea of long hair, not only is it hard to take care of, all i can imagine is someone grabbing my ponytail, or my hair catching on fire. So I keep it short, not to short mind you, but short enough that they called me a boy, which not really an insult.  
I dry my hands gently not to aggravate my throbbing itching scars, I look up my stomach flipping when I see my blue eyes but its for barely second because I open the cabinet swinging the mirror away from myself. I reach in and grab my scar lotion, the one with the mint to help sooth the itching. I screw open the jar and slather it on all the way to my elbows.  
The scars do affect my day to day life, outside of the pain and the staring. I have limited mobility through my wrists and fingers, making me stiff, making me write like a 10 year old, another thing a bully finds very amusing.

I put the jar back into the cabinet closing it while already turning away. I take my trash downstairs to the kitchen trash can, and I get a glass of water heading back into my room to binge watch American Horror Story Asylum, until dinner.

When dinner came around Mom was still not home, so I made ramen, and coffee, and ate them in my room. I stacked my dishes onto the dresser and I opened the window, it was getting dark out already, the warmth and humidity had gone down and it was now a comfortable temperature, I crawled out of the window and pulled myself up onto the roof, which was only slanted a bit not enough to be uncomfortable when laying down, which is what I am doing now, waiting for the moon to rise for the full moon to rise.  
I love the full moon, when the full moon is out, i’m in no pain, and I’m happy, when the full moon is out i feel like I'm floating, like i’m everywhere at once like I’m traveling through the moon beams, i can hear everything and nothing, I have energy yet i’m relaxed, I imagine this is what a good high feels like.


	3. Chapter 3

I always go for a run, every morning. I have yet to see my mom, even though it is the next morning and the car was in the driveway, but I am used to it. My run was uneventful, if you don’t count the eyes following me, but that happens whenever I don’t wear gloves, but who wears gloves while working out, that’s just gross.  
I’m taking a shower and I regret not putting a towel over the full body mirror, because I swear its just giving me the worst angles and prospective's of my body, my body isn’t anything special, well I mean the birth mark on my back that looks like a crescent moon is pretty special but other than that. I am not overweight and I am not underweight, though I teeter on the line of underweight due to my not very nutritious diet and my penchant for running.   
I have a wide rib cage and small boobs, I have boyish shoulders and barely any curves. But my body is not note worthy, nobodies going.   
“I just saw the most sexy girl,” and nobodies going “ew I just saw the most repulsive girl.” It’s just not noteworthy.  
But its a big contrast between my mom, my mom is all curves, the perfect hourglass figure.  
I must’ve gotten my body from my dads side of the family. Though I can’t remember them and my mom said that all pictures of my dad and his family got burned in the fire. Though she used to tell me stories about them, said my dad’s name was Tom and that he was from DC, that he was orphan and was adopted. So I guess even if I still had those photos I wouldn’t know what a woman from my dads family really looked like.

When I was done I got dried and got dressed, there hadn’t been any body wash because I had just run out, and i cant go buy some more but no doubt there will be a new bottle tomorrow. Mom can not stand store bought products, she has Grandma make them, which then gets shipped to us with remarkable speed, they sort of just smell like flowers, but a flower I can’t really place, it’s very overpowering.  
I checked the weather before I got dressed, its still warm but blessedly its not very humid, so I put on the shorts from yesterday, picking a loose lightweight black shirt I tucked it into the high waisted shorts, I pulled on socks, lathered my scars in a thick gelatinous lotion, and picked up the gloves from yesterday pulling them on, they slid on easily due to the lubing affects of the lotion. I grabbed my phone stuffed it into my pocket I headed downstairs, making myself breakfast. I brushed back my damp hair as I ate my eggs, I downed my coffee and poured myself some more, I downed that one and putting my dishes in the sink I slipped on my shoes and headed out.  
After all I hadn’t gotten very far yesterday with my adventuring.

 

Something weird happened. When I say weird I mean weird, like back away slowly weird.  
It happened around lunchtime, I had gone into a cafe in search for coffee to quench my thirst and my addiction, to the caffeinated drink. This cafe wasn’t like a Starbucks it was some hole in the wall indie place, it smelled like coffee and vegan gluten free treats. It was full of people reading or typing away at their computers and almost everybody inside were hipsters.   
I like places like this, people in here aren’t overly friendly nobody tries to disrupt you from whatever you are doing weather that be reading, writing or just staring out into space, which is what I am doing.   
No everything was perfectly normal until a man walked in. The bell above the door going off as its opened, I instinctively looked over, because you know, sudden noise, people look to investigate, check out the person that has just walked in. It must be a sort of survival instinct, check out to make sure the new person isn’t about to kill us all.  
And I can’t really say anything about the killing part, because this man looked dangerous, like a predator.   
He was a muscular man, he had a surprisingly thick neck, and he wasn’t very tall but he wasn’t short. The man wore a tight low v neck shirt, and his chin was covered in a stylish stubble, and his hair was short and spiked and brown. His face was the first thing that was weird about him, besides his what seemed to be smug resting face, but his face was familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it, it was like when I tried to focus on what made his face familiar, all I would get is static.   
Now the second thing, that was weird about him happened the split second between when he walked in and when I was thinking. His smirk fell and he tilted his head up seeming to take a large sniff of the air, his nose scrunching, like he just smelled something bad, but his mouth fell open in surprise and he quickly looked around, somehow his looking around seemed perfectly normal, and not at all weird to the other patrons. His eyes fell on me, I’m not exactly sure what went across his face when he saw me, Aw, surprise, anger, sadness, pain, confusion, joy, hope, anxiety. All those things appeared before disappearing almost instantly and were replaced by the smirk though it seemed more strained. I frowned in confusion after all I was confused, but oh great he’s walking towards me.   
“Uh hi” I said as he stopped in front of my table, his face spasmed but he smiled none the less though it was strained.   
“Hello, I just had to say that you look very much like a girl I used to know.” He said, I put on a fake smile.   
“I doubt that.” I said gesturing to my birth mark his eyes twinkled  
“No, you look exactly like her.” he said creepily, I feel weird, all staticy, happy and weirdly calm, something I don’t normally feel unless its a full moon. He stuck his hand out.  
“Peter Hale.” He introduced, Deja vu. I shook his hand hesitantly   
“Elara.” I said, not wanting to give my last name to a stranger who was also a strange man.  
“Gorgeous gloves.” he said.  
“Thanks” i said awkwardly.  
“Order for Elara.” called out a voice, pronouncing my name wrong, like Elayera, instead of Elawra. “Uh it was nice meeting you.” I said to him  
“Likewise.” he said his face seemed sad and disappointed before it was hidden once more. He walked away and instead of heading to the line he left the shop, I shivered.   
So that was my weird encounter with the strange man Peter Hale… I don't feel much like being in town anymore, I want to be home, where its safe, where there aren’t any strange people that make me feel weird, So I headed home.

I opened the door and immediately registered the noises coming from the kitchen I frowned, quietly closing the door and heading towards the noises, I froze however and relaxed when I saw it was only my mom. She was wearing a pair of black leggings, a black leather jacket, and black high heels. She was reaching into a cupboard pulling out a bottle of wine.   
“Hi mom” I said she turned around fast luckily not dropping the wine when she was startled but she put on a fake smile.   
“Hi darling.” she said, before turning back around to get herself a glass. My glove had slipped so I pull it back up.   
“How was your day?” she asked me with feigned interest.  
“It was okay… there was a weird man in town today.” I said she pulled down a glass uncorking the wine she poured herself way to much wine, filling the wine glass all most to the rim. I moved around her to get a mug for some coffee, starting the coffee pot.   
“Oh?” she asked. After taking a gulp of her wine, she leaned up against the counter behind herself, her brown hair draped elegantly over one shoulder.  
“Yeah said his name was Peter Hale.” I said, I had my backed turned towards my mother so I missed when she tensed up. “Oh” she said her voice harsh, I looked over at her, confused at the tone of voice.   
“I heard about him. Don’t go near him, he’s bad news.” she said, I frowned but nodded anyway.  
“Okay” I said.   
“Good.” she said before clearing her voice. “Your grandma is going to be sending cookies.” she informed me before leaving towards her room without so much as a goodbye.  
Yuck, grandmas cookies are nasty, they’re chewy and weirdly salty.  
I sighed, pouring myself some coffee I headed to my room.

Got to say this is the most eventful thing that’s happened between now and the last 3 weeks of summer break.


End file.
